


Playing House

by ScutManycoats



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A lot of story in between the smut, Aliases, Anal Sex, And then a little switching, Assassins & Hitmen, Bad Flirting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Banging like a screen door in a hurricane, Being sweethearts, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Come Swallowing, Cyberninja Hanzo Shimada, Dorks finding their perfect match, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feeling like they’re living a double-life, Fluff tinged with desperation, Hook-Up, Its never just about the sex, Jesse cooking breakfast afterwards, Low-budget sugerdaddy, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Masturbation, Not meaning to fall in love, Parting ways but finding each other later in life, Power Bottom Hanzo Shimada, Public Blow Jobs, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sexual Experimentation, Strangers to Lovers, Super thirsty motherfuckers, Top Jesse McCree, With all the tags it suddenly looks like a crazy ambitious project holy shit, learning to trust each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-08-21 07:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScutManycoats/pseuds/ScutManycoats
Summary: It’s lonely away from Blackwatch, and Jesse’s already had his fill of it. Usually he can forget how long his bed’s been empty when he at least has Genji or Angela around or work to keep him busy, but this watch-dog mission is wearing him ragged. He goes out, watches, then goes back to an empty apartment, day after day . . . until a new guy comes to town, and he’s everything that would haunt the cowboy’s fantasies; muscled like its his job to be both beautiful and deadly, with the kind of dry wit and smoldering looks that leave Jesse thirsty for more, and just too damn hot not to invite home . . . besides, what his boss doesn’t know, won’t hurt him, right?But what he thought was just going to be a one-night-stand keeps going one night more, until Jesse finds that coming home to someone is what he’d been craving down to his bones. Just having someone who laughs at his bad jokes, there to talk with him as he cooks dinner, someone who is the last voice he hears whispering goodnight and the first sleepy good morning. Jesse doesn’t know how long he can keep pretending . . . it’s all fun and games, till you fall for real.





	1. The Man with the Dragon Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> So this fanfic’s been floating around in my head for a while now, largely inspired by [ this sexy little comic by Vimeddiee ](http://vibaddiee.tumblr.com/post/174063249446/18-reward-for-patreon-generously-commissioned-by) and [ this lovely piece of music by Said the Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dvtj4fzSkiw).
> 
> The shower scene was what made me finally decide to write it.
> 
> I apologize in advance; I’m physically incapable of writing smut without feels leaking into it. I hope that’s ok.
> 
>  
> 
> Be sure to tell me what you think of it!

Four days without running water. Jesse was starting to think that for as little as Blackwatch paid for his dinky apartment, it still was too much. 

He parked his none-descript pick-up truck outside the campground bathroom between the edge of the desert and the town's last gas-station. He dragged his duffle bag with fresh cloths, towel, and toiletries from the passengers seat. He was almost too tall for the old truck's cab, his leather cowboy hat brushing against the top of the door as he stepped out onto the gravel. 

He was glad of his swade jacket when he was blasted by the frigid wind. Though the temperature could easily hit 108º by noon, before dawn the desert was cold enough to set the big man shivering. It woke him up a good deal more than his coffee had on the drive over. He still grumbled over the fact that it took him a fifteen minuet commute to get a damn shower. If he didn't sweat so much during the day he would have gladly skipped the whole nuisance all together. 

The men's bathroom was divided by a counter with three sinks, separating some toilet stalls from the two shower stalls. Lights buzzed in the rafters between the skylights. Jesse could hear a few moths working their way to a short life slapping against the bulb's plastic covers. There was no one at the campsite, so Jesse got his pick of the biggest shower stall and hopefully some hot water.

There wasn’t a door, just a stained shower curtain separating the alcove from the rest of the bathroom. At least the bench looked clean enough. Jesse shrugged off his coat, and hung it up with his hat on a wall hook. He stepped out of his heeled black boots; a cross between classic cowboy and modern motorcycle boots, and tucked them under the bench carefully to dodge an old spider web that may have still been habited. When he shrugged off a gun holster from his shoulders he hung it where his heavy revolver would be in easy reach. He pulled off his wide belt pausing to rub his fingers over the polished surface of his belt buckle; it showed a skull with an eye-patch, flanked by wings. He hung it up with his jacket, grinning to himself; he loved how gaudy the thing was. He shucked off his frayed plaid shirt and dark jeans and stuffed them into his bag.

Standing naked and shivering, the urban cowboy hesitated over his left arm. His metal prosthetic arm was cold to the touch, always shocking him when he brushed it against his side first thing in the morning. His brow furrowed as he lightly traced the metal skull plate where his old Deadlock tattoo used to be. Loosing that damn mark had almost been worth having his arm blown off, but there were still mornings where he woke up surprised to find what was there in its place. It had only been a few months since using his metal hand had become second nature. 

With a heavy sigh, Jesse ran his hands over his thickening beard, he'd let it get a little out of hand since he started this damn watch-dog mission, but he just hadn't felt like trimming it back to his side-burns and goatee. He chuckled to himself as he started digging shampoo and soap out of his bag; Genji would laugh himself horse knowing Jesse had finally given in and grown a real beard. 

The cowboy grabbed a paper coil of coins and cracked it open on the edge of the bench. These showers were so old they still needed honest-to-god quarters to function. He had already gone through the first coil, but since this was considered 'living expenses' it was all on Blackwatch to cover it, so Jesse didn’t feel bad burning through them so fast. Besides, the first time Jesse had come out here at the beginning of the week he had learned that the water didn't really get hot until after the first thirty minuets of showering anyways.

He fed the metal box with a few of the coins and stacked several more on top. He twisted a knob on the box and the pipe in the wall shuddered before sputtering out a rough spray of water. If nothing else, he didn't have to worry about the water pressure. Jesse stuck his head under the stream of chilly water then pulled back with a loud whoop, shaking out his shaggy locks. If he hadn't been awake before, he certainly was then. 

He went ahead and lathered up his hair while he waited for the water to heat, occasionally sticking a foot into the stream to see if it had gotten any better. Now that he was a little more cognizant than he usually was at five in the morning, he started sorting his plans for the day. 

There were three loose targets he had been watching; those were the ones he knew were part of the gang. They all had a similar pattern shaved along their heads and neon tribal tattoos that Jesse caught glimpses of under their sleeves. It was some group that started to get a little too big and a little too deep for Overwatch to ignore, but not enough for them to send their best and brightest. The cowboy huffed at that.

There were also five others; people that looked a little out of place around town. People that when Jesse passed them in street made the hairs on his neck stand up like they could watch him without looking at him. He figured those were the ones that were supposed to make contact with the gang. They looked like rich dressing down, walked like ex-military, felt like trouble. _Felt like assassins._

Jesse finally stepped under the lukewarm water. At least intel had been right about the meeting place; with so many of those fucking bastards around it was practically a convention. Jesse started scrubbing himself down with a bar of gritty sage soap as his mind cycled through the people's faces. He knew something wasn't adding up . . . 

As the water steadily warmed to something almost comfortable, Jesse let work file to the back of his mind. He leaned his head back and let the water spray over his broad chest and roll down his belly. The water darkened his patterns of hair so it stood out against his dusky skin, marked by pink scars and his tattoos - these ones chosen as oppose to the mark left like a brand of possession by his former gang. 

There was no one around this time of morning, and the cowboy knew as soon as he left here he would have to grab breakfast and get to work . . . Jesse set his soap aside on a little shelf mounted in the wall. He trailed his lathered hands over the curve of his biceps, down his stomach, his hard core of muscles softened by the barest start of a paunch. He closed his eyes and breathed out a long sigh. Under the warm, gushing water he let himself imagine it was another man's hands stroking over his skin. 

He worked slowly, spreading his legs as his hands slid over his thighs. Jesse brought his prosthetic hand up to his chest, barely flicking at his nipple, while he slowly raked his fingernails up the inside of his thigh. He loved the way it left sensitive trails along his skin, almost burning despite how temped the water still was. Jesse finally took his shaft in hand, already half erect after so little teasing. He stroked slowly, relishing the growing pleasure with the mounting heat. The sound of rushing water was enough to cover his stuttering breath as his shaft thickened in his hand. He had plenty more quarters; he didn't have to worry about rushing. 

Jesse bit his lip as his grin spread. He pressed his metal palm against his chest, pinching his erect nipple between two fingers. The little sting sent a shudder through his legs, and he started to thrust into his hand. 

_Please,_ he begged softly to his imagined lover. He didn't bother with a face, just the thought of a solid presence pressed to his back; someone stroking him, playing with him, using him, loving him . . . he could already feel his muscles tighten, heat pooling in his gut. Jesse was caught between dragging his pleasure out or chasing after that release. 

He had almost made up his mind as he thrust a little faster into his fist; it was one of his few pleasures out in the middle of no where. _One of humanities oldest pleasure,_ he almost laughed at himself trying to wax poetry with his dick in his hand. Gasping, he ducked his head under the almost hot water, bracing his arm against the wall as he rolled his hips. When Jesse looked down at his thick cock circled in his finger, he found himself wishing it could be someone's mouth -

There was a rumbled and sudden hiss; Jesse almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the other shower burst on. The Blackwatch agent jerked his revolver out of its holster. He hadn't heard another person come into the little campsite bathroom. 

With a huff, Jesse pressed his forehead to the cold tile. His heart was pounding fiercely with the blend of fear and arousal. He had hoped he’d have the place to himself this early in the morning. He heard someone in the other stall grunt as they got under the vicious flow of frigid water.

Jesse tucked the gun away; he was being dramatic. It was probably some guy who’d just got in to the site that morning. Jesse should have been used to a public shower situation after so many years of it with both Deadlock and Blackwatch, but nothing got him jumping quite like being caught jerking off. 

The cowboy leaned against the wall and tried briefly to wake any of the pleasure from before, but it was too late. It was like he could feel the other man listening. Just knowing someone was there woke all those old fears like his boss was going to walk in on him, tell him off for being a little faggot. 

Jesse snatched up the bar of soap and scrubbed roughly over his skin, trying to wash away the old memory from Deadlock. One of the older boys had caught him at it and dragged him out into the locker just to let everyone laugh at how pathetic the new kid was. Bit of mood killer to say the least.

When he started scrubbing at his prosthetic limb he stalled, shaking his head. It had been at least ten years since he’d seen that fucker’s face, and if he did, he knew the sonovabitch would be no match for him now. Those days were long gone; no point letting it get to him now.

Jesse was working down his legs when the shower next to him sputtered out. 

" _Kuso,_ " his neighbor swore in Japanese. 

Jesse couldn't help but smirk, it was one Genji liked to use liberally. He heard the man knock against the metal box, then the squeak of him turning the knob. He swore a few more times in some more colorful vocabulary than was in Jesse's wordbank. 

Jesse leaned his head out from under the showerhead and listened. The man was rustling in something just outside Jesse's stall. The cowboy caught glimpses of his movement in the gap between the wall and shower-curtain. Jesse was tempted to leave the stranger to deal with his trouble on his own, but thinking about what a pain it was not to have a working shower Jesse felt just enough sympathy to ask, "You run out of quarters?"

There was a pause, then a low voice growled from the other side of the curtain; a familiar accent touching the edges of his words. "It said five minuets, it only gave me two."

Jesse grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, it's a bit of a bitch like that," he called out to the stranger, "doesn't like to keep to the time 'til you pay for at least twenty minuets." 

“ _Chikushou,_ ” The man swore again, this time softer. 

Jesse looked over at his box, but the timer was still well away from the finishing mark. He realized that between the coins he'd put in and the stack on top, he could have a two hour shower, easy. He could spare the guy a few, it's not like it was his money anyways.

"Here, partner," Jesse said, toweling off his hands and pushing some more quarters out of the coil of paper, "I got more than enough for me, might as well share the wealth."

With fist full of coins he pulled back his curtain. He might have said another joke, but the moment he got a look at the guy the words started to get lost between his brain and his mouth, despite how short the distance was. 

What he noticed first was the tattoo. A vivid blue and gold sleeve of storm-clouds and lighting and a scaly body coiled over thick, muscled arms. Wet lengths of black hair hung down his broad back, spotted with soap suds. It might have been a pretty sight, but the look he gave Jesse over his shoulder was biteing.

The stranger stood up from where he was crouching next to a backpack. Jesse's eyes flicked down to the pair of dark metal legs, prosthetic that started at his knees. He had a tattoo down the opposite leg to match his arm that Jesse was trying his damnist not to stare at. Especially not where the tail coiled up over the swell of the man's ass. _You could bounce a coin off an ass that tight -_

Jesse made sure his eyes were on the man's severe features when he turned to face him. Apparently he wasn't shy, standing legs akimbo and not making even a cursory gesture to shield himself though he was standing in the bathroom hall. The stranger's deep frown was framed in a short ragged beard, and his brow was drawn together as his almond shaped eyes darted between the cowboy's face and the pile of quarters he was holding out. 

"Here," Jesse said a little briskly, holding them out further. He hoped-to-god this guy couldn't see the blush creeping up his neck or notice how he was clutching the curtain in front of his hips.

The man's expression didn't soften, but he held out a cupped hand for Jesse to pore them onto his palm. It was a dragon on his arm, Jesse realized, the head snarling on the man's writs. In his haste, the cowboy almost dumped some of the coins on the floor, and the stranger had to bring his other hand up to catch the strays. 

He didn't smile, but his voice was soft, "Thank you, but I don't need this many." 

"Don't worry about it, darlin'," Jesse said, pulling back behind the safety of the curtain, "I got plenty more where those came from." 

He ducked beneath the water and tried not to listen with rapt attention as the handsome stranger - and he was handsome in just the sort of way Jesse knew was trouble - loaded coins into the shower box. Water started gushing again, and the cowboy heard a breathy gasp like the stranger was caught by surprise by the water. Jesse snatched up his soap and started lathering himself up again. He tried to ignore his returning erection batting against his thigh as he scrubbed roughly across his belly. 

_What is a guy like that doing out here?_ Jesse wondered. He was muscled like it was his job to look both gorgeous and dangerous, though maybe a little on the lean side around the middle. A body builder who likes camping? Maybe not, he wasn’t that obnoxious looking; cut like he put every inch of his body through the wringer, but not like one of the muscle junkies. But he did look strong, with rough hands to hold with, with thick thighs for someone to press their face between . . . Jesse shook his head forcefully as if the image of the stranger next door was something he could shake off like water. 

_Just wash and go, Jesse McCree,_ he berated himself, _you aren't getten' any anytime soon no matter what your dick thinks._ Unfortunately, it was thinking of lots more things.

It was almost painful washing over his shaft; he was hard as a rock and no amount of remembered paperwork or football statistics seemed to ease him up. For a moment he debated just finishing off, it wouldn’t take long . . . but when he pulled along his cock, his knees started the shake. _That’s not good._

If he was that bad along he couldn’t trust himself to cum without making some noise. Part of him wanted to, to let out a low moan . . . find that handsome stranger at his back, gripping his cock, growling in his ear, _‘What are you waiting for, cowboy?’_

Jesse turned off the water though the timer would still be running for a good half-hour. He didn't feel like waiting around. He dried off roughly and pulled on his clean cloths in a rush. His jeans were tight enough it hurt to force himself into them and he had to leave his shirt untucked to hide the noticeable bulge in the denim. He might have to take a detour to his apartment before heading to breakfast just to be presentable . . . or think strait. 

It had been a long time since he'd had a boyfriend, or gotten laid for that matter. There were only so many people in Blackwatch that were on his side of the fence, and most of them were either taken or incompatible. Jesse liked to imagine he could find someone open for a fling in every town he was stuck in, but that was the sort of tall tale he told his buds just so they didn't ask if he was lonely all the time. _That's_ what was closer to the truth, but Jesse wasn't about to admit that to himself, let alone anyone else. 

With his bag hanging off his shoulder and his cowboy hat pressed onto his wet hair, Jesse stepped out of the shower stall. He was looking down to dodge around the stranger's ratty backpack. It was getting to the end of its days, mostly held together by duct-tape. 

He glanced to the side when he noticed that the shower curtain was pulled wide. 

"Thanks again, cowboy." the man said. Jesse's eyes shot up. He was blushing something fierce, knowing he was caught. The stranger was facing him, rinsing out his hair, his head turned as he ran his fingers through the thick strands hanging down between the swell of his pecks. Jesse tried to spit out a 'sure' or 'no problem' or anything. But he couldn't get it out.

Especially not when he caught that handsome bastard's close-lipped smirk. 

Jesse ducked his head and walked out, almost tripping on the backpack straps. 

_The fucker knew you wanted to look, knew he was worth looking at . . ._

The cowboy jumped into his truck and tossed the bag aside. Once he closed the door he took a moment to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. He had a feeling that pursed smile was going to haunt his dreams right along with those sharp eyes and that tight stomach with the dark train of hair down . . . Jesse moaned out his frustration. 

Jesse jammed the keys and got the engine roaring. He had to sit with his knees splayed wide to keep his jeans from pinching. This whole showering in a pubic campground shit was getting old fast. He turned his mind back to work, gang members, assassins, death and murder and stuff . . . 

The cowboy was a half mile away from his apartment when he realized the insult that was going with his injury; he'd left his bar of soap back in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys think, what you like and don't, etc.
> 
> And for those who're intrested in learning more swearing in Japanese, [here's several more.](https://www.linguajunkie.com/japanese/bad-japanese-words) Have fun, ;3


	2. Dinner For One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse is burning up after that sexy bastard out at the campsite, but he's got a job he's supposed to be doing . . . or at least he'll try to do it tomorrow. Tonight he'll settle for a cheap dinner and a quiet evening. If he could only stop thinking about that handsome stranger . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to present you guys chapter two, hope you like it. ^ ^  
> I'd like to make a shout out my friend Pam for editing this piece for me, you're a delight to work with! 
> 
>  
> 
> For those reader who don't know what a Waffle House looks like, [here's a taste,](https://c1.staticflickr.com/1/23/31441621_9a367039d0_b.jpg) they tend to be super small, and attract strange crowds since often they're the only place open past 3 am.

Jesse had made a mistake. Gabe would have called it a big one, though luckily his boss wasn’t around to know about it. It was that damn smirk. He didn't mean it. He tried not to. Jesse always felt wrong when he did it but he couldn't help it, besides, it wasn’t like he was ever going to see that guy again . . .

He lay on his back, his jeans straining against his thighs as his legs tensed. The cowboy hadn’t wasted a moment once he’d gotten back to his apartment. His shaft had been aching the whole ride, and he badly wanted to come. 

With his metal hand twisted in his bed sheets, Jesse took himself in hand. As his callused hand pulled at his cock, a whimper slipped through his teeth. Just a few strokes set his back arching, his whole body taut as pleasure mounted in his groin. Then his head started filling in the rest . . . 

The handsome stranger was laying between his legs, his lips parting over Jesse's shaft, watching Jesse with a challenging look as he took the cowboy’s thick cock easily to the hilt. He was watching Jesse pant and beg, the man’s dark hair hanging around his face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glittering as he dragged his lips over Jesse’s dick, the stranger’s cheeks hollowing as he sucked him off. 

In his hazy dream, the cowboy reached out and grabbed a fist full of that silky hair and held him steady as he pushed into the man's mouth, bucking his hips. Jesse was rough but that handsome bastard took it so easily, his lips wet, his eyes going soft like he loved it. Like there was nothing better than tasting Jesse's dick.

The cowboy came in moments. A startled huff was all the noise he made, but the intensity of his long awaited release rattled through his limbs. It had been a long time since he'd come that hard for anything.

Jesse spent a long while just staring at the stained ceiling, panting open-mouthed. He was an idiot, a complete idiot and knew it. If he thought it was hard to forget the guy before, it was going to be a hell of a lot harder after a fantasy like that. When he finally rolled out of bed and changed his soiled shirt, a low twist of shame started to stir in his guts.

_People like that don't come to towns like this._

This guy was probably another assassin and here Jesse was getting tied up like he'd just hit puberty and didn't know what to do with his dick. Heck, with tattoos like his, it wouldn't surprise Jesse if the stranger was part of the gang. Maybe one of the reasons they'd been waiting around was for their boss to come to town. 

As the day went on, he didn't feel any better about it. Especially while on his patrol, torn between hoping he didn't see the guy, and _really wishing he would._ It made it difficult to think of anything else. 

When Jesse found he’d walked past one of his targets almost without realizing it, he decided that was enough. 

He was a Blackwatch agent; he wasn't clean enough for Overwatch to take in, in fact he rightfully should have been in prison, but Blackwatch had been his break. _You don't fuck up shit like that. When you get your second chance, you don't blow it on some guy that's never going to turn up._

At least that's what the cowboy told himself to finally sober up from the lust burning through him like liquor. 

When that didn’t work, he considered just giving in and buying a fleshlight from the adult store up the highway.

It wasn't until late that night his desires finally settled low in his gut, out of the way. The day had been long and all he wanted was food. _Just_ food. 

There was a Waffle House down by the interstate that stayed open late for the truck drivers. It was good stuff for the most part. Jesse had been working his way through their menu over the past weeks, and they knew him by then.

He crushed his cigerello butt in the empty coffee mug that was his truck's ashtray. Yawning, he stepped out into the dark parking lot. Though the sun had set almost an hour before, there was still a little of the day's warmth coming up through the pavement, but Jesse was still glad he was wearing his jacket. He pressed his palm to his left side, feeling the bulge of his revolver tucked in its holster. 

When he came in, the omnic behind the shallow counter greeted him with a slightly automated "welcome". Jesse touched the brim of his hat in response before settling in one of the booths. He was quickly provided a menu and offered coffee which he was happy to accept. Jesse leaned back in the hard booth, putting his arm across its back to rest while he waited. 

The long wall of windows faced out onto dark desert and one overpass dotted with the lights of eighteen wheelers and tankers. Occasionally a vehicle stopped at the light just outside, but it was rare. This was a quiet town, and it was late for these people. The Waffle House reflected that. The place was pretty empty, there was an older couple on the far end next to the window that looked like they belonged to the RV out in the parking lot, and he heard someone shuffle out of the bathroom and settle in the booth behind him, but that was it. Two workers, the omnic and a middle-aged woman with wispy blond hair leaned against the long counter talking as one manned the grill. A younger guy with dark skin and pink dyed braids was mopping under the booths against the window.

Jesse found he didn't mind the idea of a quiet night, like all the ones before . . . going back to his empty apartment, scouring the internet for half decent vids of old movies, thumbing through some of the decaying paper-backs he grabbed from a local antique store, or just going to bed, sleeping till the next morning then drive to the campsite bathrooms again . . . Jesse sighed heavily. The memory of that guy was going to bother him for days.

Hopefully it would only be a few more weeks before something happened, the gang’s hitman would appear, or one of the assassins would start something, or they all go home without any blood spilled, and then the cowboy could ride off into the sunset towards base. It was a lot easier to deal with how lonely he was at night if he had his friends around him all day. He could still remember days when he didn’t even have that . . . 

The cowboy took out his phone, debating weather he was allowed to text Genji to just chat. The waitress passed him to put a plate down at the table behind him. He was half listening as she did the routine, “Can I get you anything else, sir?” and wouldn't have given it another except -

_"Thank you, but this is enough."_

Jesse lost his breath in a huff; he'd only heard the man speak a few words to him, but surely there weren't two people in this town with that specific bit of accent with such a low smooth finish of tone. No, he wouldn't forget a little detail like his voice that quickly, Jesse was _trained_ to remember little stupid shit like that . . . Suddenly his arm and back were prickling just from feeling how close they were sitting. 

He started to chuckle to himself even as he felt the heat creep up the back of his neck. He really didn't want to leave. He knew he should, or just sit there like it was nothing and keep his dirty thoughts to himself. It couldn't be providence that brought them to the same place this late at night, so he should assume it had something to do with his work, _remember, hitmen and assassins_ . . . or this really was the only place in town open this late at night. 

Jesse got up from the booth and walked past the stranger towards the bathroom. He didn't so much as glance over as he went in, he would get a fine view when he made his way out. Inside, the cowboy leaned against the counter of sinks. 

_What are you doin'?_ He asked himself. What could he possibly expect to gain from seeing this guy again? He felt his dick attempt to harden - _besides that._

The guy could be trouble. Might even be the big hitman the gang supposedly hired. He might be _straight_. Jesse looked up at his reflection. 

He took off his cowboy hat to get a good look at himself; his beard was thick and uneven, crow’s feet had started to take purchase on the edge of his heavy-lidded eyes. His hair had been mashed down by wearing his hat all day. He straightened and smoothed his shirt, tucking it better in his jeans. 

_What are you even thinkin', cowboy? You're no spring chick anymore . . ._ That handsome bastard was a hell of a lot prettier than Jesse, with a body and face like that, the stranger probably had his pick of partners. Jesse was in shape, certainly, and he knew there were a few people out there that liked the raggedy cowboy look he had going for him, but there was no guarantee this guy was one of them.

Jesse ruffled his hair and straightened his coat. Maybe he could get close enough to figure out what this guy's game was, and then let that be enough. After all, there had been a few guys in the past that Jesse crushed on for weeks until he actually sat down and had a conversation with them. Like that cute assistant who looked like Captian America, square jaw, blue eyes, big charming smile, Jesse used to think the guy always smiled at him more than everyone else until he found out the guy just didn’t know his name, and, well, was a bit of a clueless dope. The sort of guy who seemed to only have elevator music playing in his head. And he wasn’t the only crush that turned out to be a dud. With some guys, their handsome face just couldn't make up for what complete idiots or disgusting assholes they were. 

The cowboy washed his hands, his mind finally made up. A few minutes might be all it took to get this guy off his mind permanently . . . _hopefully._

With more confidence than he had any right feeling, Jesse strode out of the restroom. It was definitely the same man. He was wearing a hooded jacket, hunched over a plate of scrambled eggs, but Jesse recognized his sharp features and caught a glimpse of the dragon tattoo on his wrist as he brought a cup of water to his lips. His eyes were down, looking at a phone in a beat-up case in his hand.

_Now or never._ Jesse put on one of his best smiles, touching the brim of his hat, "Howdy."

The man's eyes darted up to Jesse, recognized him in an instant, and promptly inhaled some of his drink. 

_Oh shit!_ Jesse didn't know if he should panic or laugh at the guys exaggerated response. The guy managed not to spit out his mouthful of water, but had to push the cup away, hacking into his sleeve. Jesse glanced around frantically for a moment before he snatched up a napkin dispenser from one of the tables. He held it out to the poor man, apologizing in a rush.

"I'm so sorry - didn't mean to startle ya like that -” Jesse laughed nervously, “you gonna be alright there, partner?" He was already making a great impression, _I’ve only said a word and I almost killed him!_

And of course the whole damn place was staring now. The woman came back over, “you alright, sir?” 

"I will be alright in a moment," He croaked. The stranger shook his head and waved her away as his coughing eased up. She shrugged and left them. The man cleared his throat and covered his eyes with his hand, it wasn't clear if his face was red from the coughing fit or embarrassment. He snatched up some of the napkins to finish hacking into, as he was turned away from the cowboy. Jesse set the box on the table.

"I'm sorry," Jesse said again, sitting carefully on the edge of seat opposite him. “Did I really scare ya that badly?” He was afraid of the answer, _you should have just let him be, dumbass._

The stranger fisted his used napkins and started drying away some spots of water on the table. "I didn't expect to see you again." He said, hoarsely, not looking up from his task. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth drawn down in a tight frown.

"Neither did I, must be my lucky day -" Jesse cleared his throat, "- but this is a pretty small town, I uh . . . guess I figured you were headin' on."

The stranger cleared his throat a last time and that seemed to get his voice back. "I assumed you were as well." 

"Nah,” Jesse sighed, resting his arms on the table, “ain't headin' anywhere for a while yet. Only got here about a month ago." 

The man finally looked up from the table. "You live locally?" He asked, sounding dubious. Jesse realized how stupid that must sound considering where they met.

"Yeah," Jesse turned away, scratching the back of his neck. Luckily everyone had gone back to whatever they had been doing before. He guessed there wasn’t any real harm in telling the truth. “My apartment’s plumbin's being repaired so I haven't had runnin' water for over a week. Would have preferred a truck-stop shower to the camp ones, but the closest one's an hour away.” The guy was watching him, listening curiously.

Jesse shook his head with a long sigh before turning the full force of his smile on the stranger, “I'd rather have to deal with the spiders than spend half a tank of gas just to get hot water." 

The man huffed, and Jesse caught the glimpse of a thin smile as he looked down at his plate. Jesse crossed his arms on the table, feeling a surge of relief. Now that he knew the guy didn’t hate his guts for that little fiasco, he wanted to keep the small talk going a little while longer. At least until it got interesting or the man told him to shove off. He hadn't given the cowboy a dirty look yet, so Jesse was feeling a little hopeful.

He waited to see if the guy would start up conversation, but he was busy poking at his eggs with his fork. The stranger was hunched over with his hood up, half shadowing his face. Up close, the cowboy noticed that the dense bridge of the man’s nose looked like it might have been from an old break, though he couldn’t help wondering who’d want to punch such a pretty face. Jesse’s eyes flitted over the muscles of this stranger’s arms bulging through the worn hoodie . . . or what the other guy had looked like afterwards.

"So what about you? You camping out in the desert?" Jesse leaned across the table a little, just enough to show he was interested, "I hear a lot of photographers like to come to see the stars and shit."

"I have come for work, not pleasure." The stranger frowned, jabbing at a chunk of egg. His hair must have been tied up, though a fringe of it hung down one cheek, even when the stranger brushed it back behind his ear, it would slide loose again. The cowboy tried not to think of running his hands through his long, silky locks . . . _damn, you got it bad, Jesse._

"Oh fine,” Jesse added a little gentle lilt to his words, making sure he framed everything in innocent curiosity, “what's your line of work?" 

"That depends on who will take me." The stranger leaned back in his seat, frowning at the over-cooked eggs on his plate. "I don't suppose you know anyone hiring." His brow was arched and with his tone, Jesse couldn't be sure if he was serious or if he just liked his sarcasm subtle. 

"'Fraid I haven't been here long enough to know," Jesse shrugged, smiling apologetically. "What kinda’ work you lookin' for?" 

"The kind that pays," he said before taking a hearty mouthful of eggs. When he spoke up again the sarcasm was laid on thick, "unfortunately I need money to acquire luxuries like food and now showers, apparently." Jesse chuckled as the man glanced to the ceiling in something not quite like rolling his eyes. Then his features dropped to something more serious and he didn't lift his eyes from his plate as he moved his food around. 

"Thank you, again." He said only just loud enough for the cowboy to hear. “I did mean that, earlier.”

He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, but tried to ignore it. Tried not to think of the water running down this stranger’s naked body - "It's nothin' darlin'," Jesse dropped his voice, moving his gaze over to the other couple in the place. He leaned closer, conspiringly, "I remember days when I didn't have two bits to rub together and I was living’ off the kindness of strangers. I figure I was jus’ payin’ it forward."

The stranger didn't make any response at first though Jesse felt him watching. "Are you always so generous?" 

He huffed at the idea, "Not always, but then I usually don’t run into such handsome strangers." Jesse couldn't help his mouth twitching into a smile as he dropped his voice a little lower in a way he knew some people liked, "and you gave me more then my money's worth." 

It was a gamble, and for a moment he thought he'd just lost when the man leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. The cowboy kept his head tilted down so the guy hopefully couldn't see his cheeks redden in the shadow of his hat. 

"So what you're suggesting," the man said in a serious tone, "is I should become a stripper."

Jesse snorted in surprise wondering if his ears were working right, but when he looked up to the stranger's face he caught that same smirk again; just as knowing, just as teasing. He hadn't expected to hear a joke like that, not by a long shot. The cowboy started laughing hard then, feeling relieved, and – though he tried to ignore it – a little excited. 

"Well, damn, darlin’, maybe," he grinned, “ _I_ certainly wouldn’t complain. Might even be a regular.” 

The stranger’s expression smoothed to something neutral. "I'll add it to my list.” 

While he drank some water, Jesse kept his mouth shut, not wanting to risk catching the stranger off guard again. Though . . . he had thrown a curve ball that the cowboy was happy to catch. This stranger certainly knew how handsome he looked, could probably guess why Jesse was hanging around, playing sweet and flirting hard. Jesse hoped he did, anyways . . .

While the stranger drank, he half closed his eyes. His lashes were dark and long, and Jesse was staring. Was there anything he wouldn’t like about this guy? He decided it was best to turn and look somewhere else for a little while. The cowboy realized that it was probably a good thing they weren’t at a bar, a few drinks in and Jesse might have really made a fool of himself.

When the stranger set the glass on the table, the omnic came down the counter and refilled his cup from a pitcher and passed a menu to Jesse. As the server was turning to leave, Jesse gestured them back. 

“Wait a sec’, sweetheart.” Jesse glanced over the menu, “Alright, I’ll have the number five, all the way, a number three, and instead of the hash browns I’ll have a waffle, and – let’s see –” He tilted his head so he could discreetly watch the stranger from under the brim of his hat. The man’s eye’s widened as Jesse listed off all he wanted. The cowboy named a last few things, then finally added, “– and with that I’ll have the salad, just so I can pretend I’m eatin’ healthy.” He winked at his server, but the omnic seemed unimpressed as they took the menu. Though it was hard to tell with their flat metal features. 

“Will that be all, sir?” they asked in a decided monotone.

Jesse smiled all the same, “That’ll do me, thank you.”

The omnic nodded politely and walked away.

When Jesse turned back to the stranger, the man had an incredulous look; his lips pursed to the side. The cowboy realized that was probably his hint he’d stepped too far.

“ _Shit_ , I’m sorry,” Jesse feigned surprise, “Here I am pretendin’ I own the place – you mind if I join you?” The cowboy cocked his head and added something sweeter to his smile, making sure he didn’t seem pushy. “I understand if you’ve had enough of my company after I jus’ barged in on ya like this.” 

The stranger gave a slight shrug, returning his attention back to his eggs, “Where you sit matters little to me.” He wasn’t quite smiling, but it was close enough. 

"Well, if that’s so,” Jesse said slowly, “ya’mind passing me my coffee?" he tried to make it sound as casual as possible. Jesse gestured to the table behind the handsome stranger. This would be the test. The man's eyes narrowed for a moment, considering the request. But he turned in his seat and reached back to pick up the cowboy’s abandoned cup and set it on the table between them, turning the handle towards Jesse.

The cowboy grinned, "Thank ya, kindly." 

The guy wasn’t just being polite, Jesse was allowed to stay. He sat back in his seat and took a long draught of his coffee, and settled in with a deep sigh, stretching his arm across the back of the bench. 

Jesse couldn’t help being a little too happy about something he knew he shouldn’t be. He _might_ have a chance. Which was a hellova lot more than he had expected that morning.

“So stranger, how’re you likin’ our little corner of Nevada?”


End file.
